From the Author, to his Children, should he go mad in Age.
Jonnie Comet
When I one day may cease to be my own,
But coming under some less thoughtful mind,
As Swift, once sad arrayed for friends to find
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying crone;
A Soul forgot, all Reason lost, or one
Scant Ghost of what he was, mem’ry resigned:
Regarding me but thus, Child, pray, be kind,
And my afflicted form discard alone.
For, whate’er my outward state, recall
That thy once minded father loved thee well,
Bear God no ill, for ‘tis but temp’ral hell:
Let not by eyes thy better heart enthrall.
We are but dust: to dust let Bodies tend;
And by thy Love thus skyward me commend.
- 4 April 2000
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l. 3 - Swift - Swift went raving mad and was exhibited babbling in his chair by his servants –JC
l. 4 - An old... dying - paraphrased from Shelley, ‘England in1819’
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